The Lady Confesses

chapter Sixteen

‘You did not seem particularly overjoyed earlier by the news you were to return to London with my aunt tomorrow?’

Elizabeth had excused herself from Mrs Wilson’s parlour earlier on the pretext of packing her few belongings in preparation for the journey back to London in the morning, but instead of that she had collapsed down weakly onto her bed as soon as she had closed the bedchamber door behind her, still uncertain as to what she should do now that she knew for certain that Giles Tennant had been her mother’s lover. She also still pondered the strangeness of Sir Rufus’s previous intention of naming his rose in honour of Harriet Copeland, when he should have positively loathed her.

To return to London, without so much as speaking with Sir Rufus again, meant Elizabeth would be leaving behind the one man who might be able to answer some of those questions. But contrarily she had no idea, after the awkwardness of Sir Rufus’s departure earlier, how she was even to go about meeting him again, let alone bringing the conversation round to such a delicate subject as his brother’s tragic death.

For Nathaniel to now intrude upon such confused thoughts was far from welcome. ‘Your aunt would be most displeased if she were to find you in my bedchamber for a second time today,’ she pointed out firmly.

‘Then we must ensure she does not.’ He stepped further into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. ‘I thought you came upstairs with the intention of packing?’ His pointed glance took in the fact that the bedchamber remained much as it had when he had been in here this morning; a brush-and-comb set sat on the dressing-table, Elizabeth’s nightrail and robe were draped across the chair and the open door of the wardrobe revealed that her few gowns remained hanging there, several pairs of slippers placed neatly side by side in the bottom. The fact that she had been sitting on the bed when he entered was further evidence that she had made no effort as yet to begin packing anything.

She stood up abruptly. ‘I felt a little unwell again once I had arrived here, so I sat down to rest for several minutes.’

Nathaniel studied her between narrowed lids; there was no mistaking that her cheeks were still very pale, or that her eyes were a dark and pained blue. ‘You do still look far from well.’

Elizabeth turned away from his probing gaze. ‘It is merely a cold accompanied by a slight fever.’ She pushed the tendrils of hair from a forehead that had become damp as she gazed out of the window and realised that she could actually see the smoke curling from the chimney tops of Gifford House, visible across the hillside in the next valley. So near and yet at the same time still so very far away…

‘Perhaps you should, after all, allow my aunt to call on the services of a physician?’

‘No, I am sure that will not be necessary.’ Elizabeth turned away from that tantalising glimpse of Sir Rufus Tennant’s home. ‘May I say once again how sorry I was to hear of Midnight’s passing,’ she added gently.

The earl’s face closed. ‘Would that it had been as peaceful as you make it sound, but I am afraid it was not an easy or pleasant death.’

Elizabeth winced. ‘Do you have any idea what might have been the cause of it?’

‘Nothing has been confirmed as yet, no,’ Nathaniel replied.

She blinked. ‘But you have your suspicions?’

‘Perhaps,’ he said evasively. ‘Finch will continue to look into the matter after I am gone.’

‘Can it be you suspect one of the grooms of some misdemeanour?’ she pressed.

‘If that’s the case, then Finch will have his head on a pike.’ And Nathaniel would have the rest of him, preferably sliced and diced on the end of his sword, for daring to cause such a magnificent stallion even one moment of pain.


Elizabeth looked sad. ‘I really am so very sorry.’

He gave a tight smile. ‘You are not to blame, Elizabeth.’

‘Well. No. Of course I am not.’ She frowned. ‘But I am sorry for it, none the less.’

Nathaniel had no doubts about the kindness of Elizabeth’s heart; he had seen that kindness time and time again during their time together. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he found it doubly difficult to resist her dark and arresting beauty.

If she had been less kind, less intelligent, less beautiful, then Nathaniel knew he would not have found himself constantly drawn to be wherever she was. As it was, even now, sick at heart as he was over Midnight’s death, aware his aunt was already suspicious of his interest in Elizabeth, he had not been able to stop himself from coming up to her bedchamber to be alone with her one last time.

He sighed. ‘I doubt we shall see much of each other once we are returned to London. I will be going to Osbourne House and you will be in my aunt’s home.’

‘No,’ Elizabeth confirmed huskily, having realised as much after Mrs Wilson’s announcement earlier.

Much as it pained her to think of not seeing and being with Nathaniel again, she couldn’t help feeling it was perhaps for the best. There could be no future in such an attraction. Nathaniel was the wealthy and eligible Earl of Osbourne; while Elizabeth realised that, as he was friends with her new guardian, they were destined to meet again one day, the fact that she was really the impoverished daughter of the deceased Earl of Westbourne and the notoriously scandalous Harriet Copeland would make her no more acceptable as a match for Nathaniel than she had been as the young companion of his aunt.

‘Although I believe you may be being over-optimistic in assuming that I shall accompany your aunt to her home there,’ she said now. She smiled wanly. ‘I am afraid that Mrs Wilson has been far from pleased with my behaviour today.’

‘Your behaviour?’ The earl scowled. ‘I am the one who has come to your bedchamber. Twice!’

Elizabeth nodded. ‘And, as a mere servant rather than a close family member, I am the one who will be dismissed.’

‘If you truly believe that to be the case—’

‘I do,’ Elizabeth interjected.

‘Then I will speak with my aunt.’

‘I wish you would not! Please do not,’ she repeated less forcefully. ‘It is unnecessary to involve yourself when I have already told you that being a lady’s companion does not suit me.’ Elizabeth had, in fact, decided that it was time she returned to her home in Hampshire.

Running away from Shoreley Park and from the offer of marriage from Lord Faulkner, to seek her freedom and possibly romantic adventure in London, had not turned out at all as she had expected; there could be no freedom when she had little money with which to support herself, and the only romantic adventure she had encountered was to be pursued by one man she did not care for and another whom she found she cared for far too much.

No, she could not think about her tangled feelings for Nathaniel now if she were to conduct this conversation with any degree of decorum. ‘I have decided it is time to return to my home.’

The earl looked intrigued. ‘Which is where?’

Elizabeth gave a slight smile. ‘Not in London, certainly.’

Nathaniel found he was not in the least pleased that Elizabeth might leave and disappear off to God—or he—knew where. Which, he realised, was probably the whole point…

He crossed the room to stand before her, looking down into the delicate beauty of her face. ‘I do not like the thought of not seeing you again.’

A flush entered the previous paleness of her cheeks as she avoided meeting his gaze, instead concentrating on the buttons of his waistcoat. ‘I am sure, once returned to London and your…friends there, that you will quickly forget Elizabeth Thompson ever existed.’

It had certainly been Nathaniel’s intention to do as much. To enjoy the uncomplicated charms of a willing woman and satisfy his physical needs, before seeking out his friends Westbourne and Blackstone. Neither of those activities held the same appeal when they would be done in the knowledge that Elizabeth was no longer resident at the home of his aunt.

‘Perhaps—’ Nathaniel broke off with a frustrated growl.

‘Yes…?’ Elizabeth looked up at him shyly.

He was grappling with the dilemma of allowing Elizabeth to leave his life against the equally unacceptable alternative of offering her the role of his mistress. The first option he found painful to contemplate, the second was just utterly distasteful to him… He was damned whichever course he took.

And so he would do neither. ‘I believe I shall miss you,’ he said instead.

Elizabeth smiled sadly. ‘My sharp tongue, perhaps.’

Remembering the things this young lady had done with her tongue only yesterday was reckless on Nathaniel’s part. As soon as he did so the heat that coursed through him caused his shaft to harden and throb uncomfortably…

Madness. Utter and complete madness to even think about when he and Elizabeth had made love together!

He stepped away. ‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘As no doubt you will notice the absence of my own tendency to tease you at every turn.’

Elizabeth knew she would miss so much more than his teasing once she had departed Mrs Wilson’s household. That she would long for so much more! But there was nothing else to be done. Elizabeth must return to Shoreley Park, to the company of her sisters, and as soon as was possible, so that she might share with them all she had learnt concerning her mother’s involvement with the Tennant family.

‘No doubt,’ she answered Nathaniel softly. ‘And who knows, perhaps we will meet again someday?’

He could not see how, when the two of them occupied completely different spheres in society.

‘Now, if you would not mind, I believe it is time I began my packing?’

As dismissals went he acknowledged that Elizabeth’s was suitably polite, if all the more final because of it.

‘So it is,’ he agreed with a small smile. ‘If at any time in the future, you are in need of help or assistance—’

‘No, that simply will not do, Nathaniel,’ she cut in with a firmness of purpose.

‘Then if you are ever in need of a reference, perhaps—’

‘That would be even less acceptable than your previous offer!’ she said drily. ‘Any female employer would look askance at my holding a personal reference from the Earl of Osbourne and the assumptions a male employer might make holds even less appeal for me.’

She was right, of course, Nathaniel acknowledged, and felt no less frustrated because of it. ‘So this truly is goodbye, then?’ he said gruffly.

Her smile was wan. ‘I am sure, as it will take several days for us to travel to London, that we will have the occasion to speak together again during that time.’

But not privately, Nathaniel knew. Not like this. Alone. Completely unencumbered by the presence of either his forceful aunt or the well-meaning Letitia.

He privately cursed the distance that already yawned between them. ‘Perhaps, once you are settled back home, you might write to me and let me know. No, I realise that will “not do” either,’ he answered his own question before she could.

It was something of a balm to Elizabeth’s bruised emotions that Nathaniel seemed to find their parting almost as painful as she did. Almost. For the Earl of Osbourne could have no true softness of feelings towards a young woman apparently so below him in station. ‘It really is past time that you left my bedchamber, my lord.’

‘But—’

‘If you please, my lord!’ Elizabeth added with a firmness she was far from feeling.

His mouth tightened at her repeated formality. ‘As usual, you are correct.’ He immediately became the Earl of Osbourne: shoulders straightening, a look of cool hauteur on his handsome face as he strode over to the door. ‘I will wish you good luck with your packing.’

‘My lord.’ Elizabeth gave a polite curtsy, maintaining her own air of distance until the door closed softly behind him, when she was at last able to give in to the tears that had been threatening to fall these past few minutes, to give in to the heartache she suffered just at the thought of parting from the man she loved so dearly.



‘Where are you going?’

‘Is that not obvious, my lord?’ Elizabeth looked down pointedly at the leashed and panting Hector standing beside her in the hallway in readiness for their walk.

Nathaniel had been feeling decidedly out of humour since his return downstairs and was certainly in no mood now to suffer her sarcasm. ‘I am sure that Hector could forgo his walk for one evening if you are still feeling unwell.’ Elizabeth’s eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks were flushed and her voice was unusually husky.

Her dark curls were covered by a straw bonnet in preparation for going outside into the early-evening sunlight. ‘I have completed my packing and believe a little fresh air now might clear my head before dinner.’

She was probably right, but even so… ‘Perhaps I might accompany you?’

A shadow passed over the fineness of her features as she shook her head. ‘That will—’


‘—not do,’ Nathaniel finished harshly, hands clenched at his sides. ‘I am growing a little weary of hearing what will or will not do concerning the two of us, Elizabeth.’

She gave a rueful smile. ‘I was about to say that will not be necessary, my lord. I am perfectly capable of taking Hector for his evening walk alone,’ she continued as he would have protested.

He was behaving as ridiculously as Elizabeth’s dryness of tone implied that he was, Nathaniel accepted self-disgustedly. Moreover, several letters of correspondence had arrived for him a short time ago and been placed in the library; they were in need of his attention before his departure tomorrow. ‘I will not delay you any further, then.’

Elizabeth only allowed herself to breathe again once Nathaniel had disappeared in the direction of the library, the composure she had pulled about her like a cloak before coming down the stairs having been shaken the moment she saw him again. Her interest, the feelings she had for Nathaniel, were the things that definitely would ‘not do’!

Elizabeth was afraid of examining those feelings too closely; no doubt she would have plenty of time—days, months, years—in which to do so, once she was safely removed from his presence and returned to Shoreley Park.

In the meantime, it was her intention to keep herself as busy as possible so as not to allow herself the time to dwell on those feelings, starting with a long and hopefully pleasant walk with Hector.

However, within minutes of leaving Hepworth Manor, she unfortunately happened upon Sir Rufus strolling purposefully along the pathway towards her.

A look of satisfaction settled upon his homely features, his first words confirming that this was no idle encounter. ‘I have been walking here for some time in the hopes that I might meet with you again.’

‘Sir Rufus.’ Elizabeth’s own greeting was less fulsome as she eyed him warily. She was very aware of Mrs Wilson’s comments earlier about an oddness in this man’s true nature, but at the same time she could not help but wonder if this meeting was not fated to be. An answer, in fact, to her earlier uncertainties as to what, if anything, she should do about her new-found knowledge.

‘I have not had the opportunity to thank you for the roses, which you had delivered to me earlier today, Sir Rufus,’ she murmured as he fell into step beside her.

His face lit up with pleasure beneath his tall hat. ‘I am pleased you appreciated them.’

Elizabeth had not actually said that. ‘They are very beautiful,’ she acknowledged noncommittally.

He gazed down at her admiringly. ‘Nowhere near as beautiful as their namesake,’ he said.

Actually, Elizabeth knew herself to be nowhere near as beautiful as their original namesake, nor was she any nearer to answering why Sir Rufus would ever have considered naming his treasured rose after the woman who had been his younger brother’s scandalous lover. ‘You do me great honour, sir.’

‘Not at all.’ He came to a halt to turn and take her free hand in his much larger one. ‘Elizabeth, you must be aware by now of the esteem in which I hold you—’ He broke off abruptly as Hector chose that moment to announce his feelings about this encounter by growling fiercely as he sank his teeth into one of that gentleman’s boot-clad ankles. ‘Infuriating little beast!’ Sir Rufus’s face darkened angrily as he kicked out at the little dog, the force of it wrenching the leash from Elizabeth’s hand as Hector literally flew through the air to whine in pain as he landed several feet away on the dry and dusty pathway.

‘Sir Rufus!’ Elizabeth gasped her shocked dismay as she pulled her hand free to run to the little dog’s side. ‘How could you!’ She turned to glare accusingly at the man even as she aided a slightly dazed Hector to stagger awkwardly to his feet.

His expression remained dark with anger. ‘I am sick of the constant interruptions caused by the presence of that animal.’ Sir Rufus strode forwards to take a firm grasp of Elizabeth’s arm to pull her up beside him. ‘We will go to Gifford House where I might converse with you in uninterrupted privacy.’

Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide in alarm, both at this suggestion and Sir Rufus’s strange and wild behaviour. ‘I have no wish to go to Gifford House with you, sir.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘No—’

‘Yes, Elizabeth!’ He began to drag her along the pathway at his side.

‘Sir Rufus, I really must insist that you release me this instant!’ Elizabeth’s own efforts to free herself were met with resistance as the curl of his fingers became painful about her arm and would no doubt result in leaving bruises on the tenderness of her flesh.

Hector, seemingly recovered from the vicious kick, chose that moment for another attack on Sir Rufus’s booted ankle, his growls low in his throat.

Sir Rufus, his face twisted into a look of cruelty, did not hesitate to deliver another kick to the little animal’s side with the booted foot not held captive by sharp little teeth. A kick that Hector did not get up from this time, instead lying unconscious upon his side some distance away. ‘With any luck, the brute is dead!’ his attacker announced with satisfaction.

Elizabeth turned fiercely on the man standing beside her. ‘How can you even say such a thing?’ She tried once again to release herself from the steely grip of his fingers, uncaring of the pain to herself in her desperation to return to Hector’s side. ‘Let me go this instant!’ Her cheeks burned with fury.

‘You must know I cannot—’

‘I know of no such thing!’ Temper glittered in Elizabeth’s eyes. ‘You are a monster!’ She turned and began to pummel her fists upon Sir Rufus’s chest. ‘A cruel and unfeeling monster!’ Elizabeth was beyond reason, pushed well beyond all need to restrain the disgust and abhorrence she felt for this man. So much so that it took several minutes for her to realise that he was offering no resistance considering he had a fiercely angry woman beating her fists upon his chest!

But it slowly crept into her consciousness that he was unmoving against that heated onslaught. That he had, in fact, become unnaturally still.

Elizabeth stopped her pounding to look up at him, all the colour draining from her cheeks as she saw that he was looking down at her with such an odd expression in those pale and glittering blue eyes that it sent a shiver of apprehension down the length of her spine.

A nerve pulsed in his grimly set jaw. ‘Why do you continue to talk to me in this way when you know I only acted as I did so that we might finally be together?’

Elizabeth swallowed hard before speaking. ‘Sir Rufus—’

‘I will suffer no more of your squeamishness over something that needed to be done, Harriet!’ he thundered.

‘Harriet?’ Elizabeth’s eyes had now widened with more than alarm—was this man so lost to all sense that he actually believed her to be her mother?

His expression softened slightly as he looked down at her. ‘My darling Harriet.’ His hands moved to cradle each side of her face. ‘I am fully aware of your softness of heart. Indeed, I am sure I would not love you half as much if I did not know of your consideration for the feelings of others.’ His expression tightened. ‘For my brother’s feelings especially. But it is time for us to stop all the pretence, my darling. Time for us to be together, as we were always meant to be.’

There was such a look of unholy madness in his face now that Elizabeth realised at this moment that Sir Rufus truly did believe her to be Harriet Copeland returned to him.